You Can't Always Get What You Want
by bgb1
Summary: Maureen reminisces with some unknown dude/dudette about a past experience involving a fever and some kissing. Hopefully kinda uplifting. Reviews would be nice. :-)


Have I ever told you about the day I came down with Mongolian Death Flu?  
"Maureen, there's no such thing."  
Shush, Pookie. There is SO a Mongolian Death Flu, and I got it. Bad. Fever and everything. I'm going to tell you about it.  
"I don't have time for this!"  
Sit down and listen! If you don't, you'll never even know why I ended up in that bar, drunk off my ass, going home with YOU.  
"Whoa, whoa, there's a story behind that?"  
Pookie, there's a story behind everything. Now will you let me tell you?  
"Okay, go ahead."  
Okay. This was back when I was still dating Joanne.  
"Uh huh."  
Don't sound so pissed off! You know what this leads into.  
"I know. But still."  
Don't think about it. Anyway, Joanne's not in this story much. She was off in D.C., lawyer convention or some shit like that. I never knew where she went when she went on business trips. I guess she figured I wouldn't understand-dumb blond that I am.  
"You're not."  
Thanks, Pookie. Now shut up. Anyway, I woke up to the beeping of my alarm clock. Now that's never good to start with, but I happened to have a huge-ass headache added on. The beginning signs that something wasn't right- you KNOW I don't get hangovers or stuff like that.  
"Yeah."  
Yeah. So I thought to myself 'Hmm, that can't be good' and quickly sat up to go find that thermometer. Bad idea. Headache got worse. But I managed to get over it.  
"Brave soul."  
Hehe, yep. That's me! And I found the thermometer. It was at 103.6.  
"Wow."  
Yeah. So I thought to myself 'Okay, so that REALLY can't be good.' I knew I had to get back into bed real quick, otherwise my head would spontaneously combust or whatever actually does happen with a raging fever. But I also knew that I couldn't just stay in bed all day without someone to take care of me-bring me medicine and water and chocolates and read me bedtime stories and all that. So I called.  
"Mark."  
Mark. And he said he would come over right away, because at the time he was still madly in love with me. Or so I thought.  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
You'll find out soon enough. Mark arrived about twenty minutes later, carrying some aspirin and hot chocolate mix and a huge bag of potato chips.  
"You and your potato chips."  
Hey, they're good! So he came over and opened the door, because you know us, we never lock 'em.  
"Pretty stupid."  
Pretty trusting. And no one's ever done anything. So Mark looked around and called out and I tried to tell him that I was in the bedroom but apparently getting a fever means losing you voice.  
"I can't imagine you not being able to talk."  
It wasn't pretty. He came in sat down on the edge of my bed. Mine and Joanne's bed. And he asked if I was okay, which reminded me of Joanne, which made me burst into tears.  
"PMS on top of all that?"  
It seriously sucked. So yeah, I was there balling my eyes out, and there was Mark, unsure of whether he should hug me or run screaming from the building. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, Mark decided to do the hugging thing. He leaned over and held me for such a long time. And it felt really good.  
"This story better end with you and me shacking up."  
It does, Pookie. Let me finish.  
"Sorry."  
You should be. Getting back, it felt really good. And so right. He was warm while I was cold, and I just sort of snuggled into him and held onto his shirt and he tightening is grip around my waist and he smelled like cinnamon tea and it was just really.nice. I remembered that this was what it used to be like with him before I left him for Joanne, and I thought about how Joanne never held me like that, or smelled that good, or seemed to care that much.  
Since at this point in time I assumed he was feeling the same surge of warmth and happiness and regret and comfort that I was feeling, I leaned up and kissed him.  
"Despite the Mongolian Death Flu."  
Despite the Mongolian Death Flu. Because when you feel that way in that sort of moment, you can never remember the bad things in life. I leaned up and kissed him, and for a moment he kissed me back, and I just thought 'Why did I ever leave him?' But he pulled away after a moment and I could see in his eyes that he was confused and shocked and was wondering what sort of drugs I was on. I knew in that moment it would never be the same between the two of us. When we were dating, Old-Mark would have climbed right into bed with me and held me and kissed away my fever. New- Mark just looked sad and confused and lost, like the only thing he could think about was what I was doing to my relationship with Joanne.  
"Because he was friends with her too."  
Right. I had just messed everything up with not only my girlfriend of eight months, but my former boyfriend-come-best friend. Mark apologized for putting me in such an awkward situation-  
"That's so sweet."  
And then he left. Not even a goodbye. I stayed in my room and moped and cried and reminisced and thought of calling Joanne's cell and confessing everything. It wasn't until around ten that I realized I shouldn't feel so sorry for myself. Mark wouldn't stay mad at me, he never did. And Joanne and I hadn't been working out for around a month by this point. I knew what I had to do.  
"Par-tay!"  
Exactly-I went to all of my old clubbing hangouts and drank shots until I stumbled right into you. And you said something along the lines of 'I think you've had enough to drink!' and I said something along the lines of 'Kiss me, bitch!'  
"And the rest, as they say, is history."  
Yeah. The next morning I woke up in your apartment without a headache, and I called Joanne and told her it was over. She didn't argue or anything-strange because that's all lawyers seem to do. I think she realized that the spark that was first there was long gone. Then I called Mark, and he had thought over everything. He eventually decided that we should blame the kiss on a fit of delirium on my part. We laughed it off. He's good, I'm good. We're friends again. Occasional flirtation occurs, nothing more.  
"I wish the occasional flirtation would stop."  
You can't always get what you want.  
"But if you try real hard, you might just get what you need. I'm so glad I met you, Maureen."  
I'm so glad I met you too, Pookie.  
"Do you have any regrets now?"  
Not one. Because even if I didn't get what I wanted at the time, I definitely got what I needed.  
  
::The Bounciest of Endings::  
  
Well, wasn't that just sickeningly sweet?? Title and a couple of lines based on the Rolling Stones song of the same name. I'm not really sure why I wrote this, or what the point was. It actually started with me thinking of what people always say Mark smells like, and I just sort of imagine him as a cinnamon tea type person. And.yeah. That's my story. Please review! 


End file.
